For You
by PixaJade
Summary: "You are an ungrateful, impertinent, worthless excuse for a son," Lucius whispered icily, leaning so close to the boy's face that their noble noses were hardly a few centimeters away. Not slash, self-mut. AU


A/N: This fic was written and posted quite a few months ago. However, as most authors know, you often see the best improvements and additions you can make in hindsight, after your work is read by others. Not to mention new canon points that Ms. Rowling loves to toss in to her interviews. ;-) I'm a firm believer, though, in second chances. (Dramatic, no?) So, here's my _revised _version of For You. Enjoy.

Yet ANOTHER note... The **BOLD** text is FLASHBACK.

Draco slammed the door, storming into his room with a shout. He hated this. He couldn't take it anymore.

Standing in the middle of his room, he observed his surroundings. His normally pale face was tinged with two red flushes across his cheeks. A trickle of blood ran down his chin, dripping on to his expensive shirt. His breath was fast and heavy. With a frustrated yell, he strode to the expensive mahogany desk and shoved his chair over, practically launching it across the room. The loud crash that resounded when it hit the door made him smile crookedly. Physical destruction was pleasing to him. It helped bring him release.

The clutter on his desk was an eyesore to him and he swiped it all off onto the floor, not bothering to notice the bottle of ink that was now leaking all over the plush carpet. He stood at his desk, resting his balmy palms on the cool surface and breathing heavily through his nose. His lips forming a thin, white line; unconsciously, he reached up to wipe the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Suddenly, he whipped around and turned on his stereo. He knew that if his father ever cared enough to come into his room, he would have destroyed the Muggle invention. But he didn't care enough. And for that, Draco was both glad… and incredibly crushed. Pushing the play button and turning the volume up, he went to sit on his king-sized bed, covered in Slytherin-green silk sheets.

_To my mother  
To my father  
It's your son or  
It's your daughter  
Are my screams  
Loud enough for  
You to hear me  
Should I turn this up for you_

Draco ran his strong hand through his hair. He wasn't weak enough to cry. If he had learned only one thing in life, that one thing would be that he must never cry. Must never show emotion. His father simply forbade it. Tears meant weakness. But there was something else…

The bedside table drawer snapped open and he lifted something slender, heavy, and black from its depths. A beautiful, silver blade glinted as it was removed from its leather sheath.

The young man sat back against the finest pillows available to the wizarding world and contemplated the shining metal. Contemplated the handle lain with emeralds and diamonds and winding serpents, a vulgar display of the family wealth, as the song played loudly around him.

_I sit here locked inside my head  
Remembering everything you said  
The silence gets us no where  
Gets us no where way too fast_

**The silence was almost unbearable. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy all sat at the elegant oak table, eating mutely, not sparing a single glance towards each other. Draco never did know for sure why his father insisted that the family eat meals together, although he suspected that the man did it just to show the power he held over them. That he could command them as he wished.**

**Lucius cleared his throat. When his son looked up at him warily, he spoke. "Draco, I've procured a spot for you at the prestigious Academy of the Dark Arts for the next term after you graduate from that outlandish school you're at currently. I have a meeting later this month with the Headmaster there to discuss your tuition plans." The man's voice was silky and barely above a whisper, yet it demanded respect and the attention of anyone and everyone in the room.  
**

**Draco stared at his father, gripping his fork. A silent battle of wills was raging across the table. Lucius' steely eyes were challenging his son's identical ones to show even the slightest hint of contradiction. Draco fought to keep his expression neutral, politely interested.**

**The silence was broken again. "The Headmaster was, of course, a bit uncertain as to your placement. I really think now that Durmstrang would have been the wiser choice, as far as preparation goes, what with their embracing the Dark Arts. However, I had orders from the Dark Lord concerning your schooling and to Hogwarts you went and will continue to remain. I assume it is to keep an eye on that Muggle-loving fool who calls himself a proper Headmaster. And we mustn't forget dear Mister Potter, either. The Boy Who Should Not Have Lived continues to pose yet another threat."**

**Draco speared a vegetable, using it as an excuse to break his father's gaze. At the beginning of the previous year, he had taken up the cause after inadvertently discovering Snape's secret double life. He had come clean to Dumbledore about his father's connections and was now receiving information to feed to his father. He even had a grudging accord with Harry and the other two members of the so-called Golden Trio.**

**He chewed his current bite of food very slowly, considering his response. Whatever option he chose, the outcome was far from perfect. He could tell his father his plans once and for all. For that, he would most likely be hit, degraded, belittled, and disowned to round it off nicely. Perhaps even killed. Or… he could give up what he fought for and submit to his father's wishes. He could become Lord Voldemort's personal lap-dog.**

**The young man swallowed, his resolve growing stronger in his stomach as he took a breath. "No," he said simply.**

**Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"**

"I'm not going to the Academy. I'm not staying in Europe. I plan on traveling to America at the end of this term and applying for a university there," Draco replied, his head still down. He kept his tone in a pretense of respect but made himself sound firm.

**"You will do nothing of the sort. Idiot boy, you deserve a severe punishment for your insolence. You do not know-"**

**"It isn't your decision! It's my life and I can choose what I want to do with it," the teenager snarled, snapping his head up to meet his father's eyes. His face was flushing, his breath quickening. A self-preserving voice in his head told him he had gone too far and that he should just accept the inevitable punishment coming rather than continuing to make it worse. He quickly muted the voice and continued to both give and receive the same haunting, icy glare.**

_The silence  
Is what kills me  
I need someone  
Here to help me_

The cold, sharp blade traced across Draco's skin lightly. It didn't cut but merely tested the skin, as one would test the temperature of a bath before stepping in.

For a moment, he diverted his attention to the song blaring into all corners of his room. He laughed, a lifeless sound. For oblivious Muggles, blind to the horrors of the Wizarding world, they summarized his predicament quite perfectly. But there were other matters at hand now…

With an agonizingly slow motion, the blade ran across his skin, slicing a thin line in to the porcelain-white flesh. Draco did not make a noise. With a clenched jaw, he inhaled deeply, then stared intently at the blood now flowing from the cut. It was an adrenaline-rush for him. And it took away the pain inside.

_But you don't know  
How to listen  
And let me make  
My decision_

**Lucius stood abruptly, causing his heavy chair to scrape back loudly against the floor. "You will do as I say," he growled, pacing slowly around the large table toward Draco, his eyes never leaving those of his son. "The Dark Lord has always held our family in the highest regard, surpassing nearly all others. You will become educated in the Dark Arts, to serve him when he once again returns to full power. It is the only way to show him the proper gratitude for all he has done. It is not a choice. It is required." He was standing directly next to Draco's chair, looking down upon his son, anger flashing in his eyes.  
**

**Draco steeled himself for what he had to say next. "I want no part of it. Your _master,_" he spat the word, the taste of it foul on his tongue,"is weak, your numbers are dwindling. I've heard you talking. I'm not fighting a losing battle." He knew what was coming now, and ordered himself not to flinch, not to show any emotion.**

**Lucius's arm had retracted before the boy had finished talking, gathering momentum for the blow that connected with his face. The only movement from Draco was from the blow itself. He made no motion to dodge or shrink from his father. He knew he was stronger than that.**

"**This is what I get for seventeen years of spoiling you, then? For seventeen years of my life, making sure my only child was protected? This behavior is intolerable. I am ashamed to call you my son. After all that I have given to you, all that I have procured for you at my expense, you repay me with impudence and disrespect and downright open defiance," Lucius hissed, gritting his teeth in fury. After a moment, he added, as almost an afterthought, "That school has poisoned your mind." **

"**No, Father. You did that."**

**Lucius confirmed Draco's suspicions that he had earned another blow as he cuffed him around the jaw. A trickle of blood ran down his chin from the corner of his firmly set mouth.**

**  
Draco let the silence once again settle in the room. With a determined expression set on his face, he pushed his chair back and stood. "I do not wish to follow in your footsteps. All that your Dark Lord has done for me is to rob my family of a proper husband and father. I hardly see that as a good reason to show gratitude," he said savagely, voice bitter and eyes dead.  
**

_I sit here locked inside my head  
Remembering everything you said  
The silence gets us no where  
Gets us no where way too fast_

The blood had almost stopped flowing by now. He felt saddened at this, knew he wasn't ready for it to stop yet. The blade came down slowly and cut into his flesh once again, a centimeter or two from the first slash. Fresh blood slowly started to flow, mixing with the other, older blood.

Draco closed his eyes, letting the blood flow freely down his arm, dripping on to his expensive sheets.

_All your insults  
And your curses  
Make me feel like  
I'm not a person_

**"You are an ungrateful, impertinent, worthless excuse for a son," Lucius whispered icily, leaning so close to the boy's face that their noble noses were hardly a few centimeters away. Draco had to suppress a chill at the hate his father's voice conveyed. Narcissa flinched, dropping her fork to clatter loudly on the hard floor. She glanced up but quickly dropped her gaze as a house-elf scurried to give her a replacement utensil.  
**

**Lucius whipped around. "_You,_" he breathed. In three long strides, he had reached Narcissa's chair and engulfed her milky throat in his hand. "You knew about this all along, didn't you? Filthy bitch," he muttered as she struggled.**

**Draco inhaled sharply. "She didn't fucking know anything!" he yelled, pacing towards his father. He drew back his fist and hit the older man in the face, knocking him away from his mother. Without giving her another glance, the young man stepped in front of the woman.**

**Moving his jaw as if to readjust it, Lucius straightened, pointed at the teen and delivered his final blow. "_Crucio_," he muttered, a smirk on his face. The curse sprung from the sleeves of his robes and hit Draco squarely in the chest.**

**It wasn't the first time he had endured the Cruciatus curse. Despite past experience, one was never prepared for the pain. The piercing, singeing pain crawled up and down his body and he dropped to his knees then fell to his side in a fetal position. His eyes were screwed up with pain and he was biting his lip hard enough to draw even more blood. The one thing flying through his mind, aside from the pain, was _'Don't make a noise, don't give him the pleasure of knowing he's hurting you.'_ **

**After a few moments, he regained enough control to open his eyes and look at the man sneering above him. "You are a coward and unworthy of calling yourself my blood," he spat, before renewing the curse. As pain surged through the young man's body once again, he heard his father mutter, "I wash my hands of you." He turned his back on him, and with a popping noise that seemed very far away to Draco, he was gone.  
**

_And I feel like  
I am nothing  
But you made me  
So do something_

**Draco clenched his jaw, waiting for the pain to pass. Ten minutes ticked by and he shakily got to his knees. His mother was still sitting there, whiter than usual, and clearly holding back tears. He captured her gaze. The look in his eyes was clear. He wanted her help. He was begging, pleading for help through his silence.  
**

**Her eyes were sad. She wanted to help her son. She wanted to be the mother she was never truly allowed to be. She wanted to hold her child and assure him that everything would be okay. But thoughts of her husband flooded her head. And she did nothing.**

Narcissa loved her son. She truly did. Yet, the fear of her husband was greater. She said nothing and looked back down, a single tear dripping on to the cold floor

**With a single nod of acceptance, Draco left the room.  
**

_'Cause I'm fucked up  
Because you are  
Need attention  
Attention you couldn't give_

The blood had stopped. The song continued to play and he opened his eyes. The scarlet liquid was bold, staring him in the face. It looked much worse than it essentially was. His arm was covered in blood. A small puddle had formed on his sheets.

Draco stared down at his wounds. The angry redness of his wrist made his decision for him.

_I sit here locked inside my head  
Remembering everything you said  
The silence gets us no where  
Gets us no where way too fast_

Draco seemed to move in slow motion as he walked to his bathroom. With a twist of the faucet, the water began to pour, and he began to wash away the blood. Tears formed as the water ran red but they were quickly blinked away. The stained metal was washed, once again glinting in the harsh, over-head light.

_I sit here locked inside my head  
Remembering everything you said  
The silence gets us no where  
Gets us no where way too fast_

The seventeen year-old gathered his most important belongings and surveyed what was left. His life here was going no where.

The song ended and Draco retrieved the CD from the stereo. Walking to the doorway, he gave his room one final, hard look, then turned off the light.

He didn't know where he was going, but as he emerged in to the last, warm light of day, he smiled. He was sure of one thing. He would be happy.

Slowly but surely, he placed one foot ahead of the other and, wiping a solitary tear from his cheek, walked towards a new life.

Fin


End file.
